Kampong village

I did this painting to remind me of the place where i grew up – with the attap houses, the chickens roaming freely, pigs living in their sty and of course, my beloved coconut trees. Water had to be drawn from the wells, light came from hurricane lamps and the ‘mobile’ toilets were pits dug in the ground. 

So much progress occurred during my teenage years that by the time i left college, we had to be resettled into government-built apartment blocks. We used to step out of the house and see rambutan and banana trees, rubber trees and coconut trees. Now, wherever we look, outside of our windows and door, we see nothing but tall and taller blocks and the blue sky. Chickens can hardly be seen anymore because of the bird flu scares. Even the lovely tall coconut trees are a rare sight.

The wonderful thing about art is that i can compose whatever i want and try to make a painting out of it, recapture lost moments in time and re-create special memories. Inadvertently, while i am doing this, i begin to see God’s Hand in everything that happens in my life. Nothing is accidental or coincidental.

Life is like art, we are the brush, but God is the Hand. And we all started with a clean sheet of paper…       By R

O God, You have taught me from my youth,
And I still declare Your wondrous deeds.
And even when I am old and gray,
O God, do not forsake me  Ps 71:17-18  (NASB)

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